Parallèle
by seulpeodotexe
Summary: Shu is mortally injured by a powerful explosion caused by a force none of the Warriors of Light have ever faced. The explosion rips open a dimensional portal, leaving Shu stranded in a parallel universe where not even the powerful white mages can heal him. His body is trapped in a purgatory, somewhere between life and death. Maybe the 2 achingly similar to his own friends can help?


It was strange. The silence that fell after the explosion. It wasn't the first time their group had been caught in a blast; but perhaps, it was the first time they'd be caught in one of that magnitude. One that ripped surrounding buildings to shreds, shattered glass for miles, singed at people's backs from towns over.

Shu always thought they had some kind of super healing power. That was why even after the most painful blows, they could still brush themselves off and be fine a few hours later. Now, as he lay under mountains of debris, blood soaking through his blue shirt, he began to question the validity of his previous assumption.

He felt like he was dying. Hell, if he wasn't so blinded by pain, he'd think he was dead. Unless he was actually long gone and in _Hell_ , then he'd understand.

Shu couldn't hear anymore than the crackling of fire around him. No pained moans, no moving of bricks and wood from the toppled homes. No footsteps, no cries for help. The fire crackling was soothing in a morbid sort of way. For all he knew, each and every one of his friends were now dead. Consumed by the very sounds he found so calming.

Shu slipped in and out of consciousness for what could have been hours. Each time his senses returned a little more forceful than the last. First was his hearing, then smell. Finally, the third time Shu sluggishly found himself waking up, his sense of touch returned.

That had to be the worst of them all. Even the smell of burning flesh wasn't as bad as the _feeling_ of burning flesh. It was overwhelming, his stomach churning as _pain pain pain_ flew across his exhaustion rattled mind. He wasn't sure when he emptied his stomach, but he felt the way it stuck to his skin. The way it plugged up his nose and choked him as it stayed lodged in his throat.

He needed to move, find a way to roll himself over so his cause of death wasn't _choked on his own vomit._ What a pathetic way to die. Surely not the way he wanted to go. With that in mind, Shu summoned all the strength he had left in a futile attempt to turn himself over onto his side.

That was a _bad_ idea. Screw burning flesh, that was a cakewalk. Blunt wood stabbing into your gut? If anyone asked Shu what pain meant to him, he'd always use that as an example. If he lived to be asked the question, of course.

He ended up vomiting again. The smoke in the air, doubled with his body's incessant need to get rid of everything it'd ever taken in, had given him the worst sore throat and headache combination he'd ever had. Even if he wanted to call for help, he'd been sure he didn't have a voice left to do so. Not that anyone was even around. He hadn't heard more than crashing buildings since he'd woken up.

Deciding to give up on the idea of emptying his mouth, Shu allowed his body to relax as much as it could. Maybe if he did that, he would fall back asleep and not have to be so aware of how awful he felt. It took much longer that time, but Shu finally managed to slip back into unconsciousness.

The fourth time he woke was a lot more eventful than all the others. This time he could hear frantic screaming, could see lights flashing over the wreckage. He could barely make out the sight of men working above him through the black dots in his vision, the familiar knight master uniform bringing him a sense of comfort he didn't know he needed.

"He's alive!" A voice shouted as the rubble around him was quickly pulled away. He could hear himself groan as the wood imbed in his abdomen was jostled, the men going still at the sound. "Oh, God." Suddenly all the hands around him were still, the sound of hesitant walking entered his ears.

"What do we do, Sir?" A voice asked. The wood was jostled again, Shu giving a small whine before throwing up again. It was starting to get impossible to breathe, the feeling of drowning starting to become overwhelming. Before he'd gotten by on coughing it up, attempting to swallow it, or simply living with the fact he couldn't take too deep of a breath. It wasn't like he could anyway. His ribs gave enough of a protest without the slowly building pile of sick in his mouth.

"Shu, it's going to be okay." That voice was familiar. Shockingly so. It wasn't one he heard often, but it was one he knew he trusted. That's why Shu didn't fight as the man above him tilted his head to the side, smacking at his back in a desperate attempt to dislodge all the vomit built up in his windpipe. He didn't know how low on oxygen he really was until he got a big, long hit of it.

"There we go." The voice said. "Alright, don't be scared. It's me, Conrad. We're here to help." Shu's excitement at seeing the older man was greatly diminished by the overwhelming nausea still biting at him, but he still could feel it. That giddiness that came with what Zola called _hero worship_.

He'd never admit it, but he still felt that giddiness around her too.

Wait.

Was she okay?

Were any of them okay?

"Where-" Shu attempted to ask, his voice garbled and so, so sick sounding. Conrad hushed him.

"We found all of them. They're all alive." Conrad whispered reassuringly. That didn't answer whether or not they were okay, but knowing they were all at least alive was satisfying enough to allow him to relax for a moment. Shu's head lolled back to the side, another bout of nausea forcing even more sick up and out of his abused throat. He felt _awful._ Absolutely, one-hundred percent awful.

"Relax. You're safe now." Conrad had an impressive amount of calm for the current situation, Shu thought. After all, how safe could one be with an impressive stab wound, burned skin, and a chest full of broken ribs? Oh well, if Conrad said so, he'd take it. _Hero worship._

He gave one last desperate heave, bile burning the back of his throat as his body attempted to force up his entire gastric system. Conrad rubbed his back soothingly. Maybe he could just try to sleep a little longer. It sure suited him well before.

By wake up number five, he could finally say he felt a little bit better.

And by a little bit, he meant a _little_ bit. Breathing was easier, the nausea gripping him had abated somewhat, and he didn't feel the constant press of dull wood inside his gut. On top of it, the thing he was laying on was soft. So soft he nearly fell right back to sleep. It was worlds different from the destroyed cobblestone he'd been lying on last he remembered.

Despite those nice changes, he still felt like he'd been in the middle of an explosion. His head ached, his stomach rolled, and his skin felt like it'd never stopped burning. Each breath he took, while easier, jolted through his chest like electricity. It hurt so bad; his ribs screaming at him to please just _stop_. It was torture, a necessary torture.

He attempted to wiggle his fingers, his toes. Neither seemed to respond. Oh well, they'd probably hurt too if he could actually feel them. He'd count it as a blessing. Out of pure curiosity of his surroundings, he attempted to blink his eyes open. One opened before the other, each slow and heavy like someone was physically holding them closed. The light was bright as he managed to pry them open, blinding almost. No, not almost, the light burned.

"Hey, he's awake." An unfamiliar voice spoke. Shu groaned, his head protesting the onslaught of light he'd bombarded his senses with. "Are you with us?" The voice asked.

"Mm." Shu responded simply. The voice's owner rubbed at his arm gently.

"Take your time." The voice was distinctly male, that much he could tell. It didn't sound very old either. Maybe a bit older than himself. He could just barely make out that lilt of worry at the edge of each word the boy spoke, betraying his fretfulness already. Shu didn't blame him. If he looked anything like he felt, he'd probably feel pretty on edge looking at himself too.

"Is he awake?" Now _that_ was an interesting voice. High pitched, slightly raspy. Shu couldn't even begin to pinpoint what sort of person that voice could've come out of, so he didn't try. His head couldn't handle much more thinking.

"Marumaro, be quiet. He probably has an awful headache." Now that right there is where Shu's brain decided to check out all together. That voice; that grating, loud, high pitched voice was Marumaro? On top of it, the voice that had scolded him sounded familiar. He knew that voice. He'd known that voice since they were small kids.

Shu finally attempted to turn his head, wanting to take in more of his surroundings than just the off white ceiling above him. What he expected wasn't what he got. Sat to his right, still rubbing his arm gently, was Jiro. A brown eyed, dark haired, switched color clothes Jiro. Maybe he hit his head harder than he'd thought. If it wasn't for the minor appearance changes, Shu still wouldn't believe the person sitting next to him was Jiro. Jiro never touched him unless the intent was to hurt.

Behind who he'd dubbed Jiro Clone, was Kluke. A brown eyed, dark haired, different colored clothes Kluke. That look she was giving him, so filled with worry and care was comforting and yet oh so suffocating. Regardless of her appearance or voice, that was _not_ Kluke. It couldn't be. Kluke didn't like clothes to be darker than the lightest shade of yellow, pink, or blue. She'd always had bright brown hair, and her eyes had always been that familiar shade of green.

Not only that, but neither of them had a scratch on them. Shu remembered Conrad saying they'd found the others, but he'd never said he found them unscathed. That would be a pertinent piece of information that Shu would've liked to know.

Unless explosions can change your hair color, voice, clothes choices, personality, and eye color. Then maybe they weren't without damage.

"Hey, buddy. Do you know where you are?" Jiro Clone asked. Shu refused to move his head to look around and try to figure it out. His head hurt too much, and moving it to even look at the two standing above him was a bit too much.

"No." Shu whispered, his throat worse off than when Conrad had come to help. God, he was a mess.

"Okay." Jiro nodded, looking back toward _not_ Kluke. "I'm Jiro, King Jibral's royal scientist. This is Kluke. She's a healer. You're in Jibral City in the hospital wing of the castle." Okay, so they were Kluke and Jiro, and they also were clearly not his Kluke and Jiro.

"Head, not okay." Shu said, Jiro's eyes once again flicking worriedly back at Kluke.

"We found you just outside the Gul Mountains. You looked like you were in one heck of a fight." Jiro said. Shu shook his head ever so lightly, desperate to not cause anymore pain but still get the point across.

"No fight, explosion." Jiro nodded his head in response. Shu could see the way Jiro forced himself to not look back at Kluke again.

"Can you tell us your name?" Kluke asked, his eyes blinking slowly as he attempted to gather his thoughts. Why was he suddenly having so much trouble thinking?

"Shu." Finally escaped his lips. Both Jiro and Kluke bit their lips, Kluke crossing her arms over her chest as she stared so sadly down at him. Why were they looking at him like that?

Was he dreaming, or had he died before Conrad could get him help?

What a strange afterlife.

"Alright, Shu. Just close your eyes. Try to get some rest." Jiro said, the sincerity in his voice still shocking Shu enough he couldn't get himself to relax. "We're going to help you get better, I promise."

"We can't heal him with magic because he should be dead." Jiro was frustrated, worried, scared, and tired of people asking him why he couldn't just Healus the kid better so they could figure out who he was. If he could do that, the younger would already be up and trying to help them figure out why a time portal ripped through the Gul Mountains, dropping him and piles and piles of debris along with it.

At least it'd scared the monsters away.

"Look, here's what I can tell you," Jiro said, directing his frustration on his main group of friends. "He has some sort of ability to keep himself alive even when he should be dead. Kind of like our Endure spells. The problem is that no matter what I do, I can't restore his health. My magic is confused. It can't heal someone who's died, so it doesn't try. It dissipates before it can touch them, which is exactly what it does to him. Yet, I can't revive someone that's still alive. That magic vanishes too, which is exactly what it's doing."

"So you're saying our magic thinks he's dead and alive at the same time?" Shu asks, the sight of him still filling Jiro with so much relief. When Zola, Kluke, and Jiro had been called from their work for their current situation, he'd really thought their Shu had been the one lying half dead in the pile of junk.

"What I'm saying is our magic has no idea what he is, so it doesn't try." Jiro simplifies. Shu nods, leaning back into his chair. Shu, Kluke, and Jiro had been going back and forward on what to do for close to an hour then, and it was clearly wearing all of them out.

"I've got to go. I promised King Jibral I'd help clean up the area." Shu said, shooting up out of his chair. Jiro nodded, sighing as Shu barely looked back before bolting out the door.

"He hasn't even looked in the room." Kluke whispered, staring at Shu's now vacated chair.

"I don't blame him. I don't know how I'd feel if an alternate me fell from the sky." Jiro shrugged. He was starting to get really worried about Shu despite his easy avoidance of Kluke's own worries. Shu wasn't the type to actively avoid anything, but he wouldn't even speak of the kid unless it had to do with getting information out of him. Any conversation pertaining to anything more than getting him back home was met with Shu running out of the room.

"It's not like him to act like this. You know that." Kluke said, their eyes finally meeting. Jiro sighed, looking down toward his shoes.

"I do. Maybe it's better that Shu avoids going near him. The kid's freaked out enough, I don't think he needs to see himself standing over him." Jiro offered. Kluke closed her eyes, hand coming up to rub at the soreness the conversation left behind.

"You're right." The two of them were silent after that, only the sound of Jiro tapping anxiously on the table entering their ears.

"Do you think they're worried about him? The other Jiro and Kluke?" Kluke asked quietly, her voice unsure and nervous. Jiro looked back up at the younger, humming at the question.

"I'm sure they are."


End file.
